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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516531">fever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects'>escapismandsharpobjects</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Whump, Whump, second chapter added!!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:28:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>originally written for the whumptober 2019 alt prompt #3: fever.<br/>He jolted awake, feeling immediately that something was wrong. Granted, he often jolted awake feeling that something was wrong, but this was different. He hadn’t been dreaming, he’d just-woken up.<br/>EDIT: second chapter added</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo &amp; Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright &amp; JT Tarmel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>208</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! this is another whumptober fic that i'm moving over here. i hope you like it, please let me know what you think!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He jolted awake, feeling immediately that something was wrong. Granted, he often jolted awake feeling that something was wrong, but this was different. He hadn’t been dreaming, he’d just-woken up. </p><p>It was freezing, was the first thing he noticed. He shivered in the cold and forced himself out of bed. He felt dizzy as he stood up, but that was nothing new. He let his head clear for a second, then got dressed for work, finding a warm coat and burying himself in it.</p><p>He arrived at work still shivering. His head had begun to ache on the way, and it was absolutely pounding now. He just needed to sit down, though, he told himself. All he had to do was sit down, and he’d be okay.</p><p>But he couldn’t be expected to sit still all day-there were murders to investigate. Three people had died so far, and Malcolm had come up with a profile the day before which had revealed five possible suspects. The NYPD was in the process of narrowing that list down, and he was helping.</p><p>Or trying to. His thoughts kept wandering, to his mother, his father, his days at Quantico, but mostly to his physical state. He was sick, and he knew it. He also knew that if Gil had even the slightest notion that he might be sick, he’d be sent home immediately. So he was pretending he wasn’t freezing, pretending he could see completely straight, pretending his head didn’t feel like it was being crushed in a vice.</p><p>He was doing a pretty good job, he thought. He provided commentary on the discussion as usual, but offered no additional insight. He was too tired to think of anything new. </p><p>Fortunately, they narrowed down the five-suspect list to two possible killers. Malcolm carefully looked over their information.</p><p>“It’s him,” he said finally, tapping one of the files. “He has a previous conviction.”</p><p>“Yeah, for theft,” JT said. “Plenty of people have previous convictions for theft. Not like the dude tortured some little animals or something.”</p><p>“It’s him,” Malcolm insisted. He could <em>feel </em>it.</p><p>“We have to talk to both of them anyway,” Gil pointed out. “We’ll do this one first.”</p><p>The three of them arrived at the man’s apartment fifteen minutes later. “It’s a shady area,” Malcolm pointed out.</p><p>“Thanks,” JT muttered. “Super helpful.”</p><p>Malcolm made a face at him, but JT had already turned away from him to knock on the door. “NYPD!” he called.</p><p>No response.</p><p>“Lights are off,” Gil said. “He might not be home.”</p><p>“No, he is,” Malcolm interrupted. </p><p>“How can you be sure?” JT asked, knocking again. </p><p><em>How could JT not be sure?</em> Malcolm wondered. <em>Couldn’t he hear the voices coming from the other side of the door?</em></p><p>“No?” JT said. “What voices? Gil, are there voices?”</p><p>Malcolm hadn’t realised he was speaking aloud, but he knew he was right-there was a conversation going on just behind the door that he couldn’t quite make out. He tried the knob. The door, unsurprisingly, was locked. He kicked it.</p><p>Gil grabbed him by the arms and spun him around, away from the door. Before Malcolm could stop him, Gil was pressing the back of his hand to his forehead.</p><p>“You’re burning up,” he remarked. “You didn’t think to tell me you had a fever?” </p><p>Malcolm flinched backwards. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I’m really fine.”</p><p>“Malcolm, there aren’t any voices,” Gil said gently. “You’re hallucinating and you have a fever. One might assume those things are related.”</p><p>Malcolm turned his attention back to the door. “We can knock it down,” he suggested. “Or-”</p><p>“What part of ‘you have a fever’ are you not getting?” JT asked. “You’re not thinking straight.”</p><p>“I’m always thinking straight,” Malcolm said, and toppled sideways into JT.</p><p>Fortunately, JT had quick enough reflexes to catch Malcolm before he hit the ground. Unfortunately, JT had very little patience for people collapsing on the job, and he promptly flung Malcolm over his shoulder and walked back to the car. Gil followed him, reasonably assured that the suspect wasn’t home.</p><p>And he wasn’t home, but it didn’t matter-Gil had just started the car when his phone rang.</p><p>“We got him,” Dani told him. “Your suspect. He turned himself in maybe two minutes ago. Apparently he ‘couldn’t deal with the guilt.’”</p><p>“What a saint,” Gil said coldly. “We’ll be back a little late. Just have to make a quick stop.”</p><p>“Where’re we stopping?” Malcolm asked drowsily from the backseat. He sat up from where he’d been leaning unconsciously against the window. </p><p>“Your house,” Gil told him. “You’re going home and getting some rest, and some medicine, and you will not come back to work until I tell you to.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Malcolm said, leaning back up against the window as they pulled into the street.</p><p>“You won’t what?” </p><p>“Any of it,” he said. “I won’t sleep and I won’t take any drugs and I’m coming back to work with you right now.”</p><p>JT rolled his eyes. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked.</p><p>Malcolm looked at JT’s hands, but there were four of them, and they looked wrong. <em>Dead</em>. He pushed himself back into the door of the car, clamping his eyes shut firmly. <em>JT only has two hands</em>, he told himself. <em>And they’re normal hands. Not dead hands. </em></p><p>He looked back at JT, who looked at him with a quizzical look on his face and blood dripping from his eyes.</p><p>Malcolm once again tried to push himself backwards through the car door.</p><p>“Hey,” JT said concernedly. “Bright. Bright!”</p><p>Malcolm kept his eyes shut. He shook his head. “It’s not real,” he whispered to himself. “It’s not real.”</p><p>“What’s not real?” JT asked. </p><p>“Malcolm, look at me,” Gil instructed from the front seat. Malcolm cautiously opened his eyes, sighing in relief when all he saw was the familiar face of Gil, turned slightly towards him.</p><p>“That’s dangerous,” he muttered. “You should focus on the road.”</p><p>Gil smiled and turned his head back to the front. “Just look at me, okay, kid?” he said. “Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real, I promise. You’re sick.”</p><p>Malcolm nodded, staring resolutely ahead at the back of Gil’s head. “I feel weird,” he observed. </p><p>“You’re sick,” Gil repeated. “You’ve got a fever. It’s normal to feel weird.”</p><p>“Oh,” replied Malcolm, and he closed his eyes again. He was so <em>tired</em>. </p><p>They arrived at Malcolm’s house fairly quickly. He was mostly awake, but not in any state to make his limbs cooperate. Therefore, JT once again threw Malcolm over his shoulder, lugging him up the stairs and into his house. He dropped Malcolm unceremoniously onto the couch and leaned against the wall.</p><p>Gil busied himself with locating something to reduce the fever, but of course, Malcolm’s home was completely devoid of drugs. He therefore settled for a cool, wet washcloth and sent JT off to the pharmacy. </p><p>“Don’t want medicine,” Malcolm told him, once he’d been informed of where JT had gone. “I might not wake up, I might get stuck in a dream, it’s <em>dangerous</em>…”</p><p>“I’ll stay with you, okay?” Gil offered. “I’ll make sure you wake up.”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” Malcolm said, not very convincingly.</p><p>Gil was already calling Dani, making sure he didn’t need to come back to the precinct.</p><p>“It’s pretty cut-and-dry,” she told him. “I mean, we’ll need you tomorrow, for sure, but I think we’re good for the afternoon. What’s going on?”</p><p>He told her. “He didn’t say anything?” she asked.</p><p>“He never says anything,” Gil said. “I should’ve seen it sooner, but I was so focused on the case…”</p><p>“Well, he’s alright now, isn’t he?” Dani pointed out. “Resting?”</p><p>“Somewhat. I sent JT to get some fever reducers, and I’m staying so I can wake Malcolm up, in case the drugs make it harder,” he explained.</p><p>“Makes sense,” Dani said. “He’s lucky to have you.”</p><p>“Don’t I know it,” Gil said, smiling to himself. “He’d be back at work right now if he’d been given a choice.”</p><p>“That sounds about right,” Dani said. “Hey, do me a favour and let him know he was right? About our killer, he had the right man.”</p><p>“I’ll tell him,” Gil promised. He hung up and turned to Malcolm, who had already fallen asleep on the couch. He smiled and found a blanket to drape over him, then sat down next to him and waited for JT to get back. He’d have to wake Malcolm then, make him take some medicine, but for now, he could sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here's the second chapter!!!! this one is for KC and iztaex, hope yall enjoy!!!! i've never done a second chapter before so i hope this is ok!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>JT returned shortly, bringing with him an array of medicines. “Should’ve asked what you wanted,” he said to Gil, dropping a bag onto the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Gil replied, standing up from his position on the end of the couch to examine the contents of the bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Gil rifled through the medicines, JT stared awkwardly around, slowly inching his way towards the door. He was about to say something like, “well, guess I’m gonna head back to the precinct,” when Malcolm suddenly shot upright from the couch and </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Screamed like he’d been shot or stabbed or otherwise horribly injured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil was there in a second, gentle hands on Malcolm’s shoulders. “You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re home, I’m here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued muttering soft reassurances until Malcolm’s breathing evened out slightly from ragged, deep gulps of air interlaced with painful-sounding coughs to smoother, shallower breaths, still a bit desperate-sounding and punctuated with coughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha’ happened?” he slurred, clumsily bringing up a hand to bat at Gil’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil gently grabbed his hand and set it down on the couch. “You came into work with a fever and collapsed on us. We brought you home, JT went out for some medicine-which we need to talk about, by the way, you don’t even have tylenol-and that about brings us here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm nodded slowly, then said, “JT? Why...why’s he here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I carried you up the stairs, dumbass,” JT responded, stepping slightly away from the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Thanks.” Malcolm’s eyes slid shut and his head started to droop forward. Gil pushed him back upright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you don’t. Not yet. Take some ibuprofen and then you can sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Malcolm’s head snapped up. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm looked at Gil with a pleading stare. “Please, you know what that can do. ‘M gonna...not wake up. What if I get stuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil sighed. He’d already told Malcolm he’d stay, but he said it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm sounded so genuinely surprised that Gil could feel his heart break just a little. “Of course I’ll stay, kid,” he said, pouring as much reassurance into the words as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm nodded, then took the medicine that Gil held out to him and swallowed it, making a face. “Now can I sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” Gil said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How bad does this have to feel for him to actually </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>want </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>to sleep? </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wondered, as Malcolm leaned sideways into the couch, eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JT cleared his throat from the other side of the room. “You seem to have this under control,” he said to Gil. “I’m gonna walk back to work and help Dani.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil shook his head. “Take the car. And thanks for your help, JT.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JT caught the keys that were tossed to him and nodded. “Don’t mention it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once JT had left, Gil shook Malcolm’s shoulder. “I know I told you you could sleep, but let’s at least get you to bed,” he said, silently hoping that Malcolm wouldn’t ask to be tied up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm shook his head, pressing his face into the couch cushion. “The couch is fine,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil sighed. He would have preferred to have Malcolm sleep in a proper bed, but at least he didn’t have to restrain the kid. He’d had to do it before, at Malcolm’s insistence. The thought of it made him feel sick. His kid, chained up like some kind of monster, thanks to dreams that weren’t his fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, he would take this as a win. Even if it meant that later he’d possibly have to deal with an unrestrained Malcolm, with more drugs in his system than usual and a fever to add another dimension to his already horrible dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anything for Malcolm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up carefully, shifting Malcolm into a more comfortable sleeping position and pulling the blanket back over him. He headed to the bathroom to get another damp washcloth, which he laid softly over Malcolm’s sweaty forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep well,” he whispered, though he knew this was little but wishful thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Night arrived slowly. Gil read the news, checked his emails, read the news again, looked at the weather, checked his emails again, and took a quiz that told him which type of bread he was. Malcolm hadn’t had a nightmare yet. The only thing he’d done in his sleep was curl up tightly into a ball, and Gil wondered if he’d unconsciously done that so as to leave room for him to sit at the end of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil smiled softly at him. He looked so peaceful and so terribly young. Deciding not to dwell on that too much, Gil ordered himself some dinner, opting for a slightly larger meal than normal, so that if Malcolm woke up and felt like eating (he knew he wouldn’t, but he hoped) there would be something other than the near-empty jug of milk and box of stale crackers that made up his current food supply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food arrived shortly after eight, and Gil, who had been trying to busy himself by tidying up the already-basically-spotless kitchen, moved to the end of the couch to eat it, switching on the TV and turning the volume off. A baseball game was on, and he watched it without really paying attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour passed. Gil finished up his dinner and put the leftovers into Malcolm’s fridge. The baseball game had ended, and he changed the channel to some documentary about rainforests, looking at Malcolm apprehensively. It wasn’t that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to have a nightmare. It was just that he’d never thought Malcolm could sleep so deeply and soundly and peacefully, particularly with a fever that had already caused him to hallucinate. It made him worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil drifted off to sleep eventually, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He was woken up not long after falling asleep, however, by a sharp kick to his leg that had him immediately standing over Malcolm, trying to pull him out of a dream that really did not want to let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm yelled and kicked and punched at him, but finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a sense of clarity came back into his eyes and he shuddered, arms going limp at his sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malcolm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A nod and a shaky exhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay, kid, you’re okay. Come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil sat down next to Malcolm and reached out an arm. Malcolm leaned softly forward, sinking into Gil’s embrace without any hesitation or fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil cringed inwardly at how warm Malcolm still felt, running a hand through his hair calmingly. “You’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm was shaking in his arms. Whether it was from the fever or the fear, Gil didn’t know. All he could do was hold on and keep repeating, “you’re okay,” until finally Malcolm relaxed slightly, coughed, and pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare apologize, Malcolm. You have nothing at all to be sorry for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t hear it, kid. You did nothing wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’d been feeling better, Malcolm might have argued further. But he was exhausted and everything hurt, so instead he just dropped his head onto Gil’s shoulder and closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil woke up around six-thirty the following morning with an ache in his back and a warm-but-no-longer-fevered forehead pressed into his shoulder. He smiled to himself, and was about to move Malcolm aside and see what to do about breakfast when the kid shifted on his shoulder, then slowly sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so hot,” he complained, glancing around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That means your fever’s broken,” Gil said, patting him on the arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm turned to him in surprise. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking after you. Speaking of which, I can’t imagine you have much in the way of breakfast. I’m gonna run out and grab some bagels, and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>have one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm nodded somewhat dazedly. His mouth took a second to catch up to his thoughts, and once it did, he said, “Why-you stayed? All night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm had no answer. “Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?” he asked, finally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid, you have to know that. You know I love you. You’re like family.” He’d never said this to Malcolm before-the kid had a weird relationship to the concept of family, and he’d never wanted to get himself involved with that, make Malcolm the reciprocant of his paternal feelings if he didn’t want to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm looked slightly startled, until his face broke into a tired, genuine grin. “Love you, too,” he said, then lapsed into thought for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil watched him, afraid there was going to be a ‘but’- ‘but, you’ll never be my father,’ ‘but, I’m not your son...’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no but. Instead, there was a, “can you get me a cinnamon bagel? If you’re still gonna go get some?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Gil moved to walk out the door, then remembered something-“You had the right man, by the way. Dani wanted me to make sure you knew. You were right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm grinned again. “I knew it!” he said happily. “Can I come to work today? There’ll be so much to do, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil sighed. “You can’t come in to work-” Malcolm’s face fell- “</span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can bring you some files at lunch, and you can look at them and tell me what you think, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I’m gonna go get those bagels.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks so much for reading (and a special thanks to the brimel discord folks for helping me figure out how to write this)!!! feel free to let me know what you think!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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